Rescue Me
by AngelicGirl
Summary: What if an accident befell Clarise Starling, what if Lecter was captured? What if a best friend risked everything to honnor a friend's last request. Woo-Hoo! Finished ch. 11! A bit of humor
1. Death is Only the Beginning

Rescue Me

Rescue Me

Chapter One

Death is Only the Beginning 

**"So people come into our lives and quickly go.**

**Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never, ever the same."**

It was unbelievable. Like a bad dream she waited to wake up from. But this was no dream her best friend was dead. About three-dozen people stood around the grave. Jack Crawford, whom had been her mentor, stood quietly, unmoving, wrestling his grief on his own. Just the way Clarise had described him. 

Agent Mapp, Clarise's old roommate, stood next to him, her body racking with sobs, her head bent, too proud to show tears. She too, was just as Clarise had described her. Gathered around the coffin were police officers, out of their uniform, crying, mourning one of their own. 

There was no family there, as she had no living family. At least she was with her family now. There were no friends, because she had never allowed anyone to get that close, save a precious few, like Miss Mapp and herself.

Alissa Brossard stepped forward to place a white rose on Clarise Starling's coffin. Clarise had been so young, barely 32. It was so terrible. After being Clarise's best friend for almost ten years, Alissa hadn't a clue how she would move on from this. 

The coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, many flowers splashed on top, along with the dirt, each burring her in it's own way. A few more songs, some tears, and it would all be over. But after the end of something, there is always a beginning, yet Alissa saw no beginning. There was no light at the end of this dark tunnel. 

*************

**"Death is not the greatest loss in life. **

**The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."  
-Norman Cousins**

A man in a dark suit holding flowers stood in front of a coffin bearing the name Mary Medina. He leaned down and placed the flowers on the grave. A funeral was in progress not 20 yards away. Clarise starling's funeral. This dark shadow's eyes linger among it's gathering. He can't get any closer without putting himself in danger.

Clarise, his protégée, was being lowered into the ground. He observed his flowers on the stranger's grave, he would not be able to approach Clarise's coffin for some time. They would be watching for him, he new. 

Among the crowd was his old rival, Jack Crawford, the man who he battled all his life. He had stolen Crawford's protégée, William Gram, by tearing off his face. And now, Crawford had stolen his. Crawford had put his Starling in a place of danger, and as far as he was concerned, Jack Crawford was indirectly responsible for her death.

Also there was Miss Mapp. He chuckled. If she were to see him now, even paying homage to Clarise, she would arrest him immediately. She had that same sense of right and wrong as his little Starling, and he was in her Wrong category. How wonderful life must be for the people who can simply separate right and wrong into two neat little piles with no exceptions. 

A few FBI officers stood around, Paul Kreddler had the nerve t make an appearance.There was only one other woman there. A blond woman, standing across from Jack Crawford, head bent, face concealed from view. She, he could tell, was grieving the most. Not because she cried the most, or sobbed hysterically, but because he could taste her pain, even at this distance. The scene earned a place in his memory palace.

Dr. Lecter turned away from the affair, no longer interested in the stranger's grave before him, and no longer able to watch Clarise being returned to the earth. The woman's pain was sweet, and he drank it in, an exotic mixture with his own.

He slowly made his way from the old cemetery in West Virginia, where his little Starling would finally find peace from the lambs.

"**If you do not understand my words, you will not understand my silence" **

-Unknown 

** **


	2. A Moment of Weakness

Chapter Two

Chapter Two A Moment of Weakness

**"...For that's the way it is with life, as some of the most beautiful days come completely by chance. ****But even the most beautiful days eventually have their sunsets."   
- Author Unknown **

Dr. Lecter approached Starling's grave. It was two weeks after the funeral, and he was almost sure no one would be looking for him at the cemetery any longer. He bent down and placed a lily on her grave. After a moment of silence with her, he new the matter was closed. His mind simply tied a neat ribbon around it and his grieving was finished. Hannibal Lecter did not often experience regret, but he regretted not coming to see her before her death.

All right, just give him a few minutes to pay his respects, I mean he did have something for the girl, then pounce

Clarise was apart of his past. She had her own place in his memory palace, next to mischa's, and he could take a picture of her out whenever he missed her. Her room began with that first image of her, her fresh face, and her dark hair, bravely standing in front of his cell in Baltimore, and ended with this last picture of her tombstone. 

He walked past it, now. It was all over; probably the most interesting specimen he had ever found was at rest. He had always wondered if he would out live her. Now, on with the show. Back to Florence...perhaps a quick stop in London, it had been a while, and London was beginning to hold quite an appeal due to the weather …

NOW

"Dr. Lecter put your hands up, you are under arrest!" He recognized the voice, Agent Mapp. He sighed; he wasn't in the mood to kill anyone, especially a friend of Clarise's. He turned around to find not Mapp, but around twenty FBI agents emerging from tombstones about 100 feet away, each gun raised and aimed. How had he not smelled them? Could he really have been that absorbed in his grief?There was no way he could kill them all…ten at best, and he couldn't out run them either. This was it…for now. 

Agent Mapp emerged from a tombstone. "Dr. Lecter, put your hands behind you head and get down on the ground." She called, holding handcuffs. How very noble, they were going to let her make the arrest in honor of Clarise.

"Well done agent Mapp." He paused, slowly, in the most manipulative voice he could manage, he asked, "And how are you? Do tell me, how are you handling Agent Starling's _death_, hum? Do you wake up to her voice _screaming_ for your help? Do you wish you'd been there, at that arrest gone bad? _Could_ you have saved her? Do you really think my arrest will give you the _closure_ you _so_ _desperately_ _seek_?"

"Dr. Lecter, on the ground!" she called more forcefully. Her pain was tangible, she was taking him in, but he had his fun with her. Dr. Lecter obliged, slowly getting to the ground, agents rushed in. His freedom was gone, all because a moment of weakness.

** **

** **

**"I wish they would only take me as I am."  
-Vincent Van Gogh**


	3. An Exclusive Hell

Chapter Three: 

(I am not completely happy with my portrayal of Dr. Lecter in Ch. 2, so I will be revising it, ta ta, Jacquline Christine)

Chapter Three:  An Exclusive Hell

"Each of us bears his own Hell."

**-- Virgil**

Dr. Lecter sadly admitted to himself he was getting use to the circumstances of incarceration again. The tasteless nourishment they dared to call food, the law officers whom seemed, by their smell, to busy catching criminals to ever bathe, and the way the unhygienic things never took their eyes off him.

He wasn't back in a mental institution, not yet anyway. There had been some discussion over where he would be going. The mental institution in New York wanted him. It was where he was on his way to before he escaped…but another institution in West Virginia tried to lay claim to him due to the fact all the patients of the Baltimore institution had been shipped there after it had closed. Meanwhile he was stuck in Washington, in a makeshift cell, the same one he had escaped from years ago. 

Everyone seemed to be uneasy in remembering that, thus security around him was tight. Six police officers guarded him, two buy the door, and the other four positioned near the cage. Not near enough for Lecter's _taste of course. At 7:00 PM they switched shifts, then once again at Midnight, and finally at 8:00 AM._

He hadn't spoken since his capture, and everyone around him eyed him cautiously, as though dealing with a proverbial bomb about to explode at any moment. Dr. Lecter found this mildly amusing and decided one evening soon he would use it to his advantage to scare a particularly large officer who's seemingly favorite habit, other then eating, was belching as loud as possible. 

He knew he would be foolish to attempt any escape in the next few months, the next year, even, as everyone was much too jumpy, to wary of him. Very few of them would ever make the mistake of underestimating him again. 

Dr. Lecter continued his drawing, sketching the outline of Agent Mapp's braided hair. He hadn't asked for a thing, but they had given him soft paper, his drawing chalks, magazines (no staples, of course), and all his usual privileges. It was almost a mockery of what he had outside these four barred walls. No boundaries, no confinement…still, there were no real boundaries for Dr. Lecter, at this moment, if he chose, he could be admiring art in a prestigious museum, or sipping a good wine at a café in Vienna. He could be anywhere, but when he let go of the memory, he would still be held in that wretched cell. 

He turned his attention back to his drawing of Agent Mapp and Agent Steinbeck, the looks on their faces as they arrested him. The small beads of sweat on Agent Steinbeck's brow, the look of apprehension in his eyes, the look of determination written all over brave Agent Mapp's face. He could almost feel the tension, the tautness of her muscles as she leaned down to snap those handcuffs on him.

A cough. Dr. Lecter peered over his drawing at the officers sitting near by. One dozed near the door; another occupied himself with a crossword puzzle, a tinker toy for the not-so-intellectual mind. Two officers took part in a game of cards; another had excited the room to relieve himself. And the last officer coughed again, as he quickly undid the wrapping on his take-out cheeseburger. He was the slob; the one Lecter loathed the most. 

Lecter had once found it very humorous that although they were free, they indulged in food not much better then his own, when they could have anything. At some point, such stupidities of the human race were no longer humorous, only sad, because he realized that they were trapped in a cell just as much as he was, and there was no escape for their feeble minds. Of course, he could continue on about all the pathetic things the general population did, but it would only frustrate him, frustrate him that they were imprisoned one way, while he was imprisoned another, thus neither had the opportunity to live life as it was meant to be lived.

He once again gazed at the man with his beloved cheeseburger. His hair awry, gobbling down the 'meat' as though it would be ripped from his grasp at any moment. Dr. Lecter could see this man's life in one glance. He had no wife, he would go home this evening to an apartment caked in filth and old TV dinner boxes, to turn on a tape of some bad comedy, or perhaps watch trashy women battle each other on Jerry Springer. He would drive by the a high school near his home the next day, gaze out at a field of teen football players an wonder why he never bothered to pursue his natural talent for the game.

And Lecter, unable to do anything else, would remain in this humiliating cage with these sad people surrounding him, aching for civilization.But, that was his cross to bear. The world would never understand his need to rid it's own race of all such people as these. No, that was his exclusive hell, but he bore the burden gladly. Smiling to himself, he wondered what kind of seasoning would go best with this pudgy officer's sweet breads. 

"In the depths of my heart,

I can't help being convinced that my fellow men,

With a few exceptions,

Are worthless."

- Sigmund Freud


	4. A Fallen Angel

Chapter four: A Fallen Angel

Chapter four: A Fallen Angel

"She was a phantom of delight  
When she first gleamed upon  
my sight;  
A lovely apparition...  
And yet a spirit still and bright,  
with something of an angel light."  
  


-**William Wordsworth, English poet**

Hannibal Lecter sat in his cell in Washington…. the decision had been made-he was being moved to New York in the morning.

He hadn't been able to shake the melancholy that had descended upon him since his capture. He cared not to look out at the officers he knew were sitting near by. He cared not to remember he was in a cage…he cared to be alone, but that was unlikely.

It wasn't very strong at first…just a faint scent. A whisper of…_lavender. _A police officer came in, rolling his dinner cart, carefully keeping her face down. He hair was tucked under her cap; she averted her face from view. Dr. Lecter sat up immediately _he knew her smell._

"Hey Stevens! You aint suppose ta be bringin' his dinner. That's Mason's job. What the fuck are you doin' away from the front desk?"She ignored the officer's calls, giving him the finger, guessing that would have been what the woman she had knocked out and stolen the uniform from would have done.

The officer seemed pleased with her reply, and took no more notice of her. There were four officers in the room at the moment, one reading, two playing cards, and one watching her. The one watching her got the needle, the other three would have to be tranquilizers. 

She rolled the cart past the man, just barley stopping in front of him. She looked up, to see where in the cell Dr. Lecter was. She found her own eyes meeting his, and in that second, she knew he wasn't fooled. He knew why she was there. She looked away, making the pretence of picking up the tray. Then seconds later she wheeled around and injected the officer with the long needle. He gasped, just barley, and slumped in his chair, alive, but heavily drugged.

She didn't wait to see if the other officers had noticed his slight verbalization, she drew her weapon and shot a tranquilizer into one, then another, and the last one. One managed to draw his gun before he fell back, the other staggered, slumping against the table, clawing it, trying to regain balance…and fell. The third got an eye full of her, and she knew he would be able to pick her out of a line up...but it didn't matter, she wouldn't get caught.

She checked her watch. About ten minutes until the other two officers would be back from the coffee break. She searched the man near her for keys-nothing. She ran over to another fallen officer, all the while feeling Dr. Lecter's eyes on her. Bingo. She ran up to the cell, he met her there near the bars. 

"Dr. Lecter, my name is Alissa Brossard, I was a friend of the late Clarise Starling. I've come to get you out of here." She said, trying one key in the lock, no good. "Give me your word you will not hurt me, and you'll be out of here in a second" she continued, her voice rushed, shaky, as she found the right key.

"You have my word" Said Dr. Lecter, a smile playing on his lips, his face infinitely calm. She then turned the key, and he stood before her, no bars between them. She shivered…he could easily kill her, he no longer needed her help.

"How do you intend to get me out of this _high_ security building…Miss Brossard? Hum?" 

She pointed to an officer. "Put on his uniform, they have a break in…" she checked he watch "five minutes. I'll have to take out the officers who are coming back. Then we walk to the staff room, and out the back door, to my car."

Lecter moved toward the officer, Alissa began collecting the weapons from the other officers. "Going for a car ride, are we? What makes you think I won't _eat _you the second we step out of here?" he asked, buttoning the man's shirt over his own.

"Nothing, but it wouldn't matter much anyway." She said, as she disarmed another officer lying motionless on the floor. She thought about her reply "Don't take that as an invitation though" she added.

"Wouldn't dream of it" he stood in front of her, completely dressed, looking all the world like an honorable officer of the law.

She was finished collecting weapons. "OK, we ambush them in the hallway, before they see this mess. And you don't touch either of them, I have tranquilizers, I'll take them out."

"Perfectly understood," he quipped. They moved into the hallway, pressing against the shadowed wall.

"Are you sure you don't want to take one with us? I could make you a lovely dinner…"

"No" she gasped. "Thank you" she squeaked, remembering he preferred to eat the rude.

Just then there were footsteps. She saw the two officers around the corner…pulled the trigger, once, twice. Officers down. 

"Well done Miss Brossard," he said, as they stepped over the officers. "You've got a nice shot." He purred.

It absolutely killed her that he was so nonchalant about the whole thing, while blood was pounding so hard in her veins she thought she would die of a heart attack.

They moved silently through the corridor, and entered an empty elevator. She pressed the button for the first floor. "Keep you head down" she whispered to him, as the doors opened. They stepped out, side by side and headed at a comfortable pace to the lounge. The door was slightly open it was empty accept for one officer. She stared at the offending officer, she hadn't prepared for this, and she was out of tranquilizers. She sobbed.

Lecter's breath in her ear, "Shoot him" he hissed.

"I can't, I'm out of-"

"Use bullets"

"But, I can't. I can't _kill_ him"

Dr. Lecter dipped his hand into the holster across her chest and brought out a gun, a silencer already on the muzzle. Without another word, he shot the officer three times in the back of the head. Alissa stood, dazed, Lecter grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the room, out the door. 

"Where is you car?" he asked, a certain edge of impatiens to his voice.

"There" she pointer at the black Jaguar. They walked toward it, she told herself it was nothing, just one person, had she really expected to get out without killing someone? She unlocked the car, and swung herself inside, slamming the door. It was then she realized how close they would be on the drive.

Dr. Lecter fastened his seatbelt, and turned to look at her. "Are you able to drive in you state of shock?" he asked, smiling. She knew he was making fun of her.

"Fine" she grumbled.

She but the car in gear, and they swerved backwards.

"Reckless driving is very dangerous," he said, bemused. She made no attempt to reply.

"And where exactly are you taking me? Why did you come in the first place?"

"1.We are going to a cabin I rented in the woods where we will lay low for a few weeks, and then I will drive you to the air port, and accompany you on you flight to Rome, once there, I will be catching a flight back, and _you_ will be a free man."

"Sounds like a charming idea, you know, you do look lovely in black; I did find that dress you wore to Clarise's funeral quite stunning"

She slammed on the breaks; it didn't matter, considering they were already on a back street, and a deserted one at that.

"You were there?" she choked.

"Of course, admiring the scene from a distance"

"And you recognized me?"

"More or less, I recognized your _smell_" he hissed pleasantly.

They were back on the road again.

"You still haven't told me why you came to my _rescue_ Alissa. May I call you Alissa?"

"Yes." She paused, contemplating, "I came…well, it's a long story"

"We have time," he prompted.

"It has to start somewhere  
it has to start sometime  
what better place than here  
what better time than now  
all hell can't stop us now"  
  


**--Rage Against the Machine, "Guerrilla Radio**" 

(PS- **grins wickedly**- so, do you like so far? If so, I think you out to let me know because…bwahahaha! I am holding my story hostage! That's right, no more updates until I see…FOUR more reviews; even flames are better then nothing! If you're on the run the word 'good' will do…back to my scheming…and putting the finishing touches on CH 5, which hopefully you all will see some day)

Ta ta,

Jacquline Christine


	5. A Shared Moment

Chapter Five: a Shared Moment

(Authors Note: I feel really bad about holding my story hostage…I just desperately wanted appreciation. I felt very frustrated I was working so hard and so few were reading it. Anyway, I'm over that, no more review demands I promise. Keep in mind this is my first Lecter fic, so it will be rough around the edges. It is also the first Hannibal/Other woman fic as far as I know. I have never seen another. Please tell me if I am mistaken. I wanted also to thank all the people who reviewed, it means a lot to me. And now…on with the story!)

Chapter Five: A Shared Moment

_ _

_"But all God's angels come to us disguised..."_  
-**James Russell Lowell******

The car had been silent for almost twenty minutes, the type of silence that is born of tension, begging to be brought to an end by a single word.

"I think I should show you something, it might help explain things better", Alissa said. She reached over Dr. Lecter, towards the glove compartment, and extracted a small manila envelope. The flap was unsealed. It was clean, organized, and somehow worthy of his attention, just like Clarise.And it was Clarise the envelope smelled of.

She handed it to him, careful not to touch fingers in the process. He opened it carefully, absorbing the smell of Clarise. It was also tainted with a touch of lavender, from Alissa no doubt, but he found it almost familiar by this time. He reached into the envelope and extracted a piece of plain, unlined paper, there was a neat scroll across it, steady, no big loops, no extravagance, he knew the writing was Clarise's.It read:

_Dear Alli,_

_ _

_Looks like you found my letter. Either you are snooping around on my side of the house, or I am no longer with you. First, I want to tell you not to be sad, because death is apart of life, and I'm with my dad now._

_ _

_Second, I love you, I know I will miss you, and I know you'll miss me too. Since I am dead, I must ask that you make sure I am buried next to my father, in Shady Lane Cemetery, West Virginia. _

_ _

Lastly, I have to ask one more thing of you. I didn't speak of Dr. Lecter very much, but I know you'll remember I interviewed him in Baltimore a while ago. I have to tell you most certainly Dr. Lecter is not crazy, he plead insanity to avoid the death penalty. But, he is also far from sane by anyone's standards.

Dr. Lecter has a genius beyond measurement, beyond comparison. He has a certain honesty to him, he never lies, and does not tolerate liars, whatever you may do, never lie to him. Despite all his crimes, Dr. Lecter should be free. That's right, no bars, no restrictions; it's the way it is suppose to be. He was meant to live in the world, I can't explain how I know, but I know he doesn't belong in a cell.

Knowing all this, I guess you understand my respect for him, crazy, as it seems. Dr. Lecter helped me in ways no one else would, or could. He made just a few moments of my life so clear, that suddenly, I understood everything, everything. But, with his absence, the knowledge fades, and I wonder what I really did see.

Dr. Lecter, right now, is at large, and I am on the case, you know all that. If Dr. Lecter was ever captured, I know I couldn't do what I'm asking you to. As I have said, Dr. Lecter doesn't belong in jail, so if he is caught, someday, I am asking you to do everything in your power to free him. 

Absurd as the request my sound, it's what I want, and I know you'll do your best, if you ever have to fulfill this request. The chances of him being caught are slim, and I hope you never have to act on this. 

It's funny, I searched night and day for him, and even now, if I had found him, I don't know weather I would have warned him or arrested him.

Take care of yourself Alissa,

Love Clarise

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Dr. Lecter sat quietly for a moment. The torture his poor Starling must have gone through when she contemplated weather or not to write this. _Good girl, Clarise_, he thought. She had made the right decision for herself.

"That was rather interesting to say the least", He said at last. A smile, "I'm sure Clarise would be proud of you. You got very personally involved, when you could have hired people to break me out."

"I didn't want to take any chances, it was too important."

"You risked your freedom, your reputation, and even your life. You could have easily been caught" He mused.

"I don't really have anything to loose. It doesn't really matter anymore. Clarise's last wish is more important then anything else remaining in my life" She said. 

"You two were very close." It was a statement.

"I knew her for twelve years, we shared a house these last six years, went to college for four together, even went to the academy with her for a year" The words were sharp, breathy, and they stung.

"Why only one year?"

"Decided it wasn't for me"

"And what is for you?" he hissed, more then asked.

Alissa vaguely remembered Clarise describing the danger of letting Lecter into your head.

"I'm a lawyer," She said at last.

The grin on his face stretched.

"Fighting for good? For _virtue? _For _justice?_ Fighting just like little Starling, hum?"

"I fight for justice, considering the circumstances involved"

His interest perked. "Please, elaborate" he said pleasantly.

They were up in the remote mountains now, forest, trees, dirt roads, the stars shining brightly, almost lighting a way. And yet, when you turned you face from the clouds, all around you was still dark, so dark…

"To give a rough description of an exception...let me think. Well, let's say a husband cheats on his wife, beats her, drinks, and she's afraid to seek help, afraid he might kill her. Then, one night, he pushes her over the edge; he beats their kids or something. If she killed him then, in anger, in defense for the lives of her children, then in my mind she should walk free."

Dr. Lecter placed his hands beneath his chin, closing his eyes, contemplating. There were steady beats of silence, but not tense, silence like the type when friends discuss a debatable matter, and one considers the other. Beats of silence filled with judgment, and thought.

"You and Clarise must have had quite a few interesting discussions," he reasoned. And wasn't that the truth!

"Yes." She found here was an uneasy feeling in thinking Clarise had gone up against him, in a dark prison, when she had been so young, so naïve. He must have seen her potential to understand such things, or he wouldn't have wasted his time.

"So, if a child witnesses his family murdered, and seeks revenge in the death of others, that's alright then?" he asked.

"No. That would justify 80% of the serial killers out there, or similar situations. I make my decisions case-by-case, history-by-history. It also depends on the person. A weak person whom had turned to killing for relief, is more forgivable then a person whom is strong, but gave in, made excuses for themselves."

"Well, I'm certainly violent, am I weak?" The game had been a nice one, but now, checkmate. 

She caught her breath, and turned to look at him, realizing whom she had been talking to. 

"That's not what I was implying, I was just stating an over all view, which doesn't necessarily apply to you. For a time there, it was like talking to, just a…"

"Normal person" he finished for her.

She actually found herself flustered with embarrassment. 

"Not to be insulting, but after everything, well, surly you can't be expected to be considered like everyone else" she said in her defense.

"Oh no. And I would loath to be considered so" He said distantly.

At that moment, they pulled up to the cabin, far out in the remote woods. They were far from the city, far from paved roads, far from sight. 

She realized that there was a very good chance she wouldn't leave this cabin alive, but the thought didn't really disturb her. Her soul was empty.

_ _

_ _

_ _

_"The incomparable beauty of life is not discovered with the eyes or the mind, but with the soul."_  
-**George Webster Douglas**


	6. Pain of Memory

"I hate memory

(A/N: Dear readers, first of all thank you for waiting for so long for the next chapter, school has been burning me out. I tried to stay true to the character of Lecter; I hope I did him justice. Thank all of you who reviewed, it means a lot to me-

Jacquline Christine)

"I hate memory. It never lets me forget what I want to."  
**- Unknown**

Chapter Six: Pain of Memory 

The Cabin door swung open, and the hinges creaked from disuse. Alissa walked in, turning behind her to check on the Dr. 

She waved toward the living room, signaling him to sit down. She was too tired to waste breath. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of brandy, a large one.

She looked back at him. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you" he said, settling down in an armchair. 

Alissa returned to the living room, and lit the fireplace, yet again that evening. Drink in hand; she moved to collapse on the couch, her eyes always open, on Dr. Lecter. All she wanted to do was get drunk and go to sleep, but neither was possible. Cringing with realization that she was about to get drunk no matter what her senses told her, she tossed the still-full glass onto the fire, and made a small noise close to a whimper. 

Dr. Lecter, ever observant, seemed to be able to read her train of thought exactly, and smiled that goddamned condescending smile which would eventually become very familiar to Alissa. She turned back to him, knowing he must be just as tired as she was, and awaiting her to specify a few more things, but too polite to ask. She took in another deep breath before forcing on a hospitable pretence.

"I imagine you want to know where you are sleeping…through that door" she gestured to the wooden door behind herself. "That's your room. There is suitable clothing, Clarise had you file, it had your measurements, I bought you some things to wear" she explained, feeling damn tired at the same time she felt the need to be detailed. "I'll go into town tomorrow, if I'm still alive tomorrow, to get whatever you need, as _you_ clearly can't go. I'll be in there, should there be an emergency or anything" she gestured to a door on the opposite side of the room. "Just for your information, the plane tickets are hidden, so, not that this would stop you, but if you do decide to leave before two weeks, or kill me, or whatever, I doubt you'll find them."

"There's lots more we have to discuss, but I am too tired at this time to care, so it'll wait until tomorrow. Any questions?"

"Where were you when they told you?" He asked.

"What?"

"When they told you Clarise was shot six times in the head at a drug raid, where were you?"

Alissa closed her eyes. This was payback, for handing out orders to him like he was some kind of half-whit child, for pretending to be in charge.

" It was just after my afternoon case, just before dusk, it…it was all over the news at that point, but…I didn't know yet. Malcolm, his office is just down the hall, he came in and told me, and…and I turned on the TV, and…I already knew, but I didn't want to think, I had to be sure" 

"What was your first reaction, after you accepted it?"

She looked at him, pleading, please, not tonight, not this, but he was cold, and his gaze, bordering on excitement and pleasure, told her to continue.

"I thought, I thought, Jesus, she was too young, and, that I was alone."

"You and Clarise, you loved her very much, did you ever think of her in a sexual nature?"

The thought made her stomach lurch.

"No. We were…she was like my sister, and then it was like…like watching your sister die."

All the humor from him seemed to vanish. 

"It can be rather trying, don't you think?"

"Yes" she said, never suspecting a second meaning behind the words, an understanding…she never expected kinship with a cannibal.

"I think we've both had enough excitement, good night, Alissa" and with that he left her alone.

She wondered why he had let it go, why all his enjoyment of it seemed to be lost. Knowing it was useless to attempt what hundreds of qualified professionals had tired to do, she didn't waste a second to attempt to analyze Dr. Lecter, she simply stumbled into bed and slept deeply. 

But even in the depths of her sleep her nightmares pursuer her.** **

"If you don't control your mind, someone else will."

John Allston 

** **

** **

***********************************************************************************************************

Dr. Lecter closed the door quietly behind himself. Clarise, Misca. He lost his sister, and all along he had compared it to Clarise's loss of her father, but he now realized it wasn't the same, it was quite different. Clarise's father protected, and so did he, Clarise needed protection, so did Mischa, he had taken Clarise's father's place, and she had taken Mischa's. 

And now, the new affinity was his relation to Alissa. Alissa had lost Clarise; He had lost Mischa, and in a way lost Clarise too. But after all, hadn't Clarise mostly been the embodiment of his vision of an adult Mischa? Wasn't that what it all came down to? She was Mischa's place, Mischa's shell, and yet, she had always been Clarise too. 

Alissa was such a special lady. She was such a wonderful subject to study because she proved to be very empathetic, overly compassionate, thus making her distress all the more tangible. He had no doubt it would prove to be an interesting two weeks.

Yes, he did intend to stay, not because he was ordered to, or even because it was apart of Clarise's last wish, but simply because it _was _the most convenient situation at the present time, and he didn't have any desire to concern himself with avoiding police, and because Alissa was quite…interesting. 

However, her ordering him around and her perception that she was in charge would have to come to an end. He had little doubt she would realize her place in a day or so, if he made it evident. 

As she had told him, there was clothing in the closet, a number of good suits, slacks, dress shirts, casual shirts, even jeans, cotton pants, running shoes, dress shoes. In the draws were pajamas, and all the essentials. He noted, underneath the clothing, there was a half-empty pack of cigars. 

On the bedside table there was a picture of Clarise, Alissa, and two men, standing in front of the cabin. Clarise was leaning against a man with glasses and brown hair, while Alissa was enfolded in the arms of a man a bit…older. His hair was brown, starting to gray, and he had a certain look, the look of a businessman. 

It didn't take a genius to realize Alissa and Clarise must have vacationed up here with various love interests. Looking about, he realized he was in Alissa's room. It would have made more sense to put him in Clarise's room, but she hadn't. He quickly drew the conclusion that Alissa wanted to be close to Clarise's things.

On the dresser was a picture of Clarise at her graduation. The day she had sealed the line-she was forever the huntress and he the hunted. Along with it was a picture of Clarise and Alissa, on a beach of some sort, the water was too clear to be from around there. Must have been Hawaii or the Caribbean.

How quaint. The all-American Hawaiian vacation. Best friends, practically sisters. The picture was clearly not recent, perhaps a few years ago. And that was it, no other personalized artifacts in Alissa's room.

He drew back the curtains to survey the surroundings. There was wild game near by; he had been able to smell the stag's territory marks, and a river or a lake near by too, for the forest to be so thriving and thick around that area. The night sky was beautiful, bright in all it's glory, no city lights to outshine the star spangled atmosphere. Quite lovely.

He had always preferred the night to the day, nighttime heightened the senses, nighttime eased the tension, it was beautiful the way the ocean, with it's dark and mysterious nighttime waters, was beautiful. Night made everything beautiful, because evil things and good things, ugly things and pretty things all cast alike shadows. 

"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."  
**-Sara Williams**


	7. Pawns and Kings

( A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up, but I have been working on my Severus Snape fic night and day Jackie Burbank Normal Jackie Burbank 2 113 2001-11-04T07:40:00Z 2001-11-04T07:40:00Z 4 1545 8811 73 17 10820 9.2720 

( A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up, but I have been working on my Severus Snape fic night and day. {When you have 27 characters you're trying to develop, it gets hard.} It will be posted soon. Thanks for reading this far, and here's the seventh chapter. By the way, no matter how long it takes for me to get chapters up, I promise I'm not abandoning this story.) 

Chapter Seven: Pawns And Kings 

Alissa awoke at 3:00 AM in the morning, according to the bright red numbers of the digital clock at her bedside. She got up, suppressing a groan, and blundered towards the bathroom. After rummaging in the medicine cabinet, she found what she was looking for- her prescription of Vicadan. After swallowing two, she stumbled back to bed, never once noticing her car keys were gone from her dresser.

Later that morning, around 11:00, she yawned and stretched, she knew the strong medication had caused her to over sleep, and she had missed her morning jog. She realized two things at once- she could smell a heavenly aroma of something similar to pork seeping under her door, and, there was no meat in the cabin. She jolted up in bed. Whatever he was cooking (she shuttered to think) at least it wasn't her, she reasoned. 

_He isn't cooking a person; he isn't cooking a person…stay calm, act normal. What would you do if he were a normal person?_ Deciding that the only thing she could do was to take a shower, get dressed, and confront her unusual houseguest; she selected a towel from a drawer and turned on the shower. 

Alissa opened the door leading to the living room. She had almost convinced herself the smell was pork, and yet…there wasn't any way to explain _how _he had gotten the pork. She walked silently through the living room, but Dr. Lecter smelled her long before she entered the kitchen. 

Alissa had swept her wet hair up into a bun, as she often did when it was wet. She was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Dr. Lecter, she noted, had also taken to dressing casually. Was it just her…or was his hair…? Yes it was…it was several shades darker brown. What was going on?

"Good morning Alissa, I must say, I did expect you to be an early riser, I was wondering when you would venture out of your room" He didn't bother to turn, but spoke casually, as though them standing in the kitchen speaking like they were intimate friends was the most natural thing in the world.

"Medication does that to you." She said. "Not to be rude, but what exactly are you cooking? Do I want to know?"

He looked slightly miffed. "Well, it's pork of course, I assumed you'd prefer it to my…specialty."

"But…there wasn't any meet here…?" she said, gently.

Hannibal let out an exasperated sigh. "No, there wasn't, that is why I went to the market. Really, there wasn't anything here to make a proper meal." He said with a condescending air. 

" YOU…WENT…WHERE?" she said through clenched teeth.

"The market, which is where people tend to go to buy provisions."

She took a deep breath; she had to stay calm.

"Didn't you think that could be a bit hazardous?" 

He seemed to consider her a moment.

"You really are much too uptight, you need to get more fun out of life. Besides, I needed to get to financial reserves I had in a near by area. I am still in need of an ID. Sit down, breakfast will get cold soon," he scolded.

"Dr. Lecter, I think it would be a very good idea if you didn't venture into town between now and the time I escort you to the airport." She explained.

He cast her a hard gaze and slowly approached her.

"Alissa, I am aware you don't know me, so I've been generous with my patients, I've made allowances, but this must end here. Any delusions you have of being in control of this situation should end now. I am in control, I am a key player, and you are a pawn. You are convenient, but you are also expendable. I suggest that you treat me with wary respect, and politeness, and perhaps you'll live to tell about it. I can appreciate that you are only doing this for Clarise, but don't think just because you cause is noble that I will hesitate a moment to rid myself of you if you step out of place. Do you understand me?"

Alissa was too dumbstruck and frightened to reply yet. 

"Good, now, eat your breakfast" he ordered in a kindly tone, setting a dish before her.

"Now you listen to me!" she roared. "I spent hours, weeks, preparing this! I got in shape in order to accomplish your escape, I made sure you had a place to sleep, and cloths, and everything you could need. I worked out arrangements, planned everything out, and I did it all because it's what Clarise would have wanted! I have so little meaning in my life left, and this is a huge piece of it. And I will not have it fucked up because you decide it's a dandy day to go fucking shopping!" Her voice calmed slightly.

"And, I have an advantage here: I'm not afraid to die." She said softly, looking up at him. 

He crept towards her, when he was close enough; she found she was backed against a wall. 

"You're so brave aren't you? You think I'm evil, don't bother to deny it. So you think I won't kill you, because good wins in the end, doesn't it? But are you really good? Are you as worthy as you think you are? I think you carry a lot of guilt for an innocent person."  A pause, " And, you may not be afraid to die, but if I were to inflict death upon you, I would make sure the few hours before it would be long, and painful, until you begged for death with every ragged breath you took, and you have my word on that." He said, eyes glairing with anger. 

Oh shit, she had made Hannibal Lecter angry, not a good thing.

"I'm sorry, I'm high strung lately, and stressed, and I wake up and find you've been sight seeing after you jail bust, and, I overreacted a bit." She said.

"Yes, you are clearly under more pressure then usual. And, if you don't eat your breakfast this instant, I shall be extremely upset with you" He had hardly finished his sentence as she began to bolt down the eggs. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"Sanity is the trademark of a weak mind." -- Mark Harrold 

Hannibal sat looking into the roaring fire later that day. Alissa sat rigidly in a chair near him; too afraid to leave him alone, and petrified to be near him. He sighed. 

"Alissa, I think, perhaps, you are feeling slightly afraid of me?"

She shook he head in the negative.

"Understand, I have a habit of speaking bluntly. I am honest, and merely presented you your options and made you aware of where you stand because I thought it was in your best interest. If that frightens you, I do not expect you to make it through the next two weeks with your sanity intact"

She smiled grimly. "Neither do I"

He smiled, the old twinkle returning. Alissa, do you play chess?" he asked, eyeing the chessboard on the mantle piece.

"Yes." She answered, almost laughing. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with him.

"Would you honor me with a game?" He asked.

"Hey, why the hell not!" she stood to get the chessboard. 

Three hours later, more then halfway into an engrossing chess game, Alissa began to laugh.

Hannibal quirked an eyebrow at her, and made a move to claim her bishop.

"I just can't believe I'm sitting here playing chess with you." She said, setting a trap for one of his knights. 

"Why not?"

"Because of who you are!"

He sighed.

"I know you expect your idea of evil to where a nametag. Evil things should be a sickly green color, or have three heads, shouldn't they? But the world doesn't work like that. They have a face just like everyone else. Even the most evil things, Alissa, have beauty to them," He said, as he took one of her pawns out of the game. 

Alissa seemed to consider this. 

"I suppose if all evil things were purely evil, with no redeeming qualities, or excuses, no circumstances inflicted upon them, we wouldn't have trials And the world would be a lot easier to deal with; good on one side, bad on the other, but it isn't really anything like that, is it?" 

Hannibal smiled.

"Alissa, you're getting warmer, you're in the right direction, but you have a far way to go yet. Checkmate" 

**__**

**_"Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it"._**

**__**

**__**

**__**

The title to this chapter was inspired by the story "Pawn to Queen" by Riley. It is Snape fiction, and my personal favorite. Any Snape fans should go read it immediately. Below, you will see I have copy/pasted a poem. It is something I found on ff.net on accident, while looking for a Mary Sue test, and I found it very moving. 

"Hey, Mary"   
by Grendel226 a.k.a. Arren Dracone 

Hail Mary full of grace,   
The Lord is with thee; blessed art thou.   
A complacent smile upon your face   
As you keep us women in our place. 

Hey, Mary, I've read the Bible before   
How to rape women after a war…   
And should someone harass your guests   
Offer them daughters to molest.   
And I've read man answers to Him above,   
While women must answer to whom they "love". 

You see my friend in the very last pew?   
She's loyal, Mary and true to you.   
Her husband threatens to take her life,   
But she's a good submissive wife:   
He beat her senseless just last week   
But she smiled and turned the other cheek   
Please understand if her prayers are silent,   
Loose teeth are common when life is violent. 

And then there's the girl in feverish prayer   
Her heart so true, but her mind's not there.   
She'll walk home in silent dread   
And be thrown screaming on a bed.   
I'd call it force without hesitation   
She calls it her female obligation:   
To be submissive, sweet and mild   
While bloated with one more hated child. 

Some just loose their fire for life,   
Degraded, not treasured as a wife.   
Called "worthless" and "ugly" every day   
Gives cause for hearts to slip away.   
Always faithful to the male power,   
Yet dying slowly by the hour.   
Such good women: they kiss your feet   
As you smile sickly, feminine, sweet. 

And there's me Mary, I've been there too   
Heaven's Harlot but always true.   
Broken, bruised, and torn apart,   
I found someone to share my heart.   
He wants an equal not a slave,   
But I'll be a sinner if I'm brave.   
Hey, Mary, I guess you finally won:   
I've played your game, you've had your fun.   
My spark is gone and so's my fight…   
But I guess that's how you like us, right? 

By divine design or discordant mind   
Damn the blessed ties that bind.   
We're shattered coals of female fire   
Burning on the Godly pyre. 

So now I lay me down to sleep,   
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.   
Please give women strength to fight   
And don't let another die tonight.   


Well, if you've gotten this far, I think you should go review the poem. The author only has three reviews on it, and I personally think it deserves more. – Jacquline Christine


	8. Rekindling A Flame

Chapter 8: Rekindling A Flame  
  
  
It was the evening. After a surprising morning to say the least, and several games of chess in the afternoon, Alissa excused herself to go work on their fake records, Id's and drivers licenses while Hannibal cooked dinner.   
  
Going into the back room of the cabin, Alissa set to the task of typing on the thick cards which were their licenses. Dr. and Mrs. Lincoln 5345 Park Drive, California. Age- 55 Age- 33. Hair brn. Eyes brn. Hair bln, eyes blu.   
  
She stopped to compare the ages. She hadn't realized how much older he was until then. If she hadn't gone to break him out, he most likely would have died in prison. She shivered at the thought It was easy to imagine filth like rapists who never spoke, or people like Bin Ladin sitting in prison, even in the chair, but an educated, cultured killer? She shuttered. It just couldn't be correct. How could someone so intelligent, do something so completely wrong without remorse? And why eating them? Surely the sanity he seemed to posses was only a façade, surely, he must be a monster beneath it all. Alissa thought back to Clarise's note.  
  
He shouldn't be in jail, he doesn't belong in a cell.  
  
Then where in our world does he belong?  
  
She sighed. Dr. Lecter, seeming to have interpited her thoughts, spoke.   
"People are generally afraid of what they can't understand" He replied.  
She felt her blood run cold.  
There he was, sitting in a chair just inside of the door, the closed door, she noticed.  
"Not to sound cliché, but how long have you been there?"  
"Long enough to watch you work. That's quite good. Have you done this before? "  
"Yes, 20 times before I came to get you. I practiced over and over. I should be an expert by now."  
  
He moved close, stood right behind her to look over her shoulder at the ID's.  
She felt her breathing incresing, her heart beating more rapid.   
  
Stay calm, stay calm. How did Clarise do this?  
  
"You need a picture to go with that" He observed.  
"Oh! That reminds me, I have the camera, but I wanted you to wear contacts; maroon eyes are rather uncommon. And I see you've already dyed your hair...I'll go fetch the contacts." She said, rising, carful to step as far away as possible.   
  
She left the room quickly, headed for Clarise's.  
  
Dr. Lecter observed the nearly-finished IDs. 33 and 55. He hadn't realised what an age gap there was. Somehow, he had always seen Clarise as his Juinor, but Alissa had seemed...more seasoned. A shame really, that she was so broken up about this. Access greif, guilt, and regret were wasted emotins. Clearly she was only a shell of the woman she had been...but then, he thought with a smile...perhaps a shell is what he really needed.   
  
It would be so much easier to teach, to program, to introduce a vacent person to his knowlage then a strong-willed, close-minded person. he decided to elabrate on this later. When she came back, and set him up for his picture, he noticed, seemingly for the first time, the single remaining spark in her eyes.  
  
He thought to himself: With a twist of my hand...i can rekindle that blazing fire.  
  
  
  
  
Much thanks to Nanci, by best reviwer. For you and Me, i keep writing this. A short chapter, but a chapter none the less. -Jacqueline 


	9. The Beauty of Death

Chapter Nine: The Beauty of Death  
  
  
  
  
  
It was the Fourth day she had spent with Hannibal Lecter.  
  
In the past two days she had spent her time writting up passports, IDs, and Licences for them.   
It was another 11 days before he would be free, and she could pick up her life and begin to peice it back together.   
The only hope she had was the feeling of fulfillment when she watched him walk, as a free man, out of the air port.  
  
It was late afternoon, and they sat in the main room. Allissa observed out the window the sun dipping into the lake.   
The scene was beautiful; she could understand why Hannibal observed it too, sketching it onto a page to save forever.  
  
"It's beautiful" she said.  
He turned to face her, brows furrowed.  
"And what beauty do you see in it, Alissa?" He asked.  
  
Always a challenge, she knew now knew what to expect, to an extent.  
  
"It's beautiful, tranquil, it symbolizes serenity, the setting of the sun means to me the ending of the day, and the quiet brought by the afternoon."  
"Interesting", was his muffled comment.  
"What do you see in it? Is it beautiful to you too?"  
  
He stopped sketching and looked at her, the smallest surprise in his eyes.  
"What do I see? I see the beauty of death in it. The sun, struggeling to live, fighting.   
It's being forced away, perhaps forced into hiding, hiding from the all-powerful blackness of night,   
which will consume the sky, eclips the clouds, and rule supreme. The sun is a cowarad, running from it's superior,   
fleeing something it cannot stop, nor fight. The sun is dieing, slowly, painfuly, and the colors in it heighten, mix with the sky, as it bleeds.   
This is what I see. We all see something different, most don't bother to try to see at all."  
  
"Death is not beautiful" she replyed in a monotone.  
"But death is beautiful. In your mind you know it is, yet you refuse to admit it,   
because socity has forced the thought into you that it would be barbaric to see the beauty in death.   
Do you not think birth is beautiful?"  
  
He returned to sketching as he spoke.  
  
"Yes, but that is compleatly different"  
"No, it is the same, the comming of new life, investing, entering a new body.   
Children are born alive, the only time we are ever able to see the body alone, without life, is after death.   
The moment of death is a beautiful thing. A uniqe, powerful flame which had burned within a person for many years goes out, this is beautiful."  
  
"And the taking of life, is that beautiful too?" she said hotly.  
"I do not kill for beauty" he said simply.  
"Then why?"   
  
It was the most emotion he had sen in her since they met, those two words,   
begging him to explain to her, to let her understand, out of desperation.  
  
He rose from his chair and came forward, until he was looming over her figure, seated in the very old armchair which smelled of cigars.   
  
"Alissa, have you ever seen a bumbling idiot. A sad speciment of the human race, with no ettiquett,   
no mind, nothing in them but life, and there they sit, abusing it, never actually living, misusing it all along. Have you, Alissa?"  
"I suppose, yes, but-"  
"Those people, those who cannot treat their bodies correctly, who do not understand their purpose nor their obligation to live, lead a half life.   
Usually, they haven't a decent friend, and they come from a long line of bottom feeders.   
They do not deserve to live, Alissa, they don't deserve the luctury of the sun setting outside their window when they do not watch it,   
they do not deserve to perceive things around them if they will only scratch the surface.   
They are luke warm. I am Hot, Alissa, i live to live, and i do it to the fullest.   
You are cold, you have no desire to live at all, you want to die. Inviting me into your home is an inderect death wish you have, but i'll not fill it.   
Better cold or hot then luke warm."   
  
She could see the sparks of red flying in his maroon eyes, and for that moment,   
they held every scrap of knowlage, every emotion imagenable, the secrets of life, and the keys to death.   
And he was right. She knew he was right, no matter how she fought it, he was right.   
  
"And, when I kill, I rid our world of these sub-humans, and make them beautiful. For one moment in their life, they know beauty, they know intense emotion:   
they know fear beyond reasoning, and you can be drunk on fear. It is the single most moving thing they will ever know.   
In the last moments of exsistence, they are the beauty, they are beautiful to me, I have made them beautiful, with my hands,   
I have restored their humanity, the price for their half life is death, but it is a small one."  
  
She breath was rapid just from listening to him. Though he never once raised his voice, he held her attention rapt, and every inflection in his words told the story,   
the meaning in his life, the favor he was doing humanity, and those he killed. Though by social standards it was a sick, twisted logic, it was a logic none the less.   
A true logic, a sensible logic, a logic which held the depest secrets of the mind, the desire to purify, the desire for perfection. And he'll never stop.   
She knew he would never stop, it was his life's work, his duty. It was his way of life, and it held so much for her.   
Layrs and layrs of understanding, of knowlage, the deepest desires, the evils inside one man based on his struggle to bring about his good.   
It was intoxicating, and, to her, it was right.  
  
"Hannibal, tell me more, please, explain, I have to know" She finally replyed breathlessly, urgently.  
  
"You will understand, but one step at a time, one concept of a time. I've opened a door for you, now you explor it, I'll start dinner" 


	10. The Collector

The Collector  
  
  
"What do you think of The Collector?" He asked, looking up at her from his writting.  
  
The fifth day in Alissa's home had been very much a silent one.   
He suspected she was still attempting to grasp the entire concept he had spoken of yesterday.   
She had put off working on the traveling plans in fvor of the book The Collector.   
He had spent the day sketching outside, and was very surprised when Alissa decided to follow him outside, book in tow.  
The had spoken little all day, but he sensed her interest in him. She continued to glance at him from time to time,  
almost as though looking for the answers in his face.  
  
He knew the questions must be buzzing in her mind, and he also knew she could find the answer to most of them on her own,  
if she looked deep inside her mind. Her words seemed more vibrent, though she still had the look of remorse,   
he found that sparking her curiosity, giving her a taste of himself, had brought back the curiosity in her, which was a start.  
  
As Hannibal looked at her, he found the idea of filling her mind with his knowlage, bringing her back to life,  
rearanging her thoughts and perceptions, heightening her senses,   
and showing her the world through his eyes quite excited him.  
Not a student but a consort. Possibly.   
  
She set the book aside, brushed a few stray hairs from her face and took a deep breath.  
"The story is excelent but...Caliban, the Collector, he is such a...ordinary, plain, normal person. He's even dull.  
But for some reason, it's still a frightening thought." She said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.  
  
"The concept of a conpulsive kidnapper being so average, like the man next door,  
is much more frightening a figure than a dark, mysterious captor.   
People are frightened at the idea of not being able to tell evil from good,  
thus The Collector is all the more frightening due to his...average personality." He explained.  
  
She nodded looking at him. "Hannibal...since yesterday,i've had this uncontrolable...desire to...understand...everything."  
"It's like i'm seeing the world for the first time...yet all over again, in a whole new light.   
It's thrilling...and frightening, and disturbing."  
  
HE continued to merly look at her, silent, waiting.  
  
"And, true and exciting as it is, I don't want to see it" She said finally.  
"I don't want you to show me all this, I like my world, my concepts, my justice, my morals. I'm a 33 year old attorney:  
I don't need my perception changed, or my world shaken. I need to live this, even if it is a lie.   
For now, maybe forever. I'm not ready for what you are showing me."  
  
She looked at him, determined, strong, and he glimpsed the stubborn,   
feirce and powerful woman she must of once been. A rekindled flame in her voice told him she was alive,   
only silghtly, but she had survived.   
And now, he watched her flare up, just slightly emerging from the shell of her grief.  
  
He looked at her, unmoving, unflinching, always sure, and never wrong, with those nearly-always calm eyes.  
"Alissa, most people will never be ready to know what I'm offering. You however, are not ready, for today.  
  
"I won't ever be ready, I think, certainly not in the next ten days." She declaired softly, strongly.  
  
"That is for me to decide" He said lightly. And she knew he was right: The knowlage was his to bestow;  
but that didn't mean she had to listen.  
  
The light chirping of crickets was the only noise other than their voices. The night chill had just set in,   
and the sun was down, leaving no decent light to draw or read in.   
Alissa, having set aside her book for the conversation, no longer felt the desire to read anyway.  
  
"I don't want any part in this. I don't want to understand you." She spat.  
  
"You want the truth, you constantly search for it, for the meaning. All knowlage comes with a price.   
This isn't free. And, in the end, your rational mind won't care what you want, you'll want to know what there is,  
you'll want to see the truth. I know you, Alissa" Her name came out as almost a hiss.  
  
He gathered his drawings and enterd the cabin, leaving her in a slight stunned silence.   
When her anger finally flared, she peiced together her words and stalked inside after him,   
A retort on her tounge.  
  
  
  
Author's Note: The Collector is actually an exsisting book by John Fowls.   
An excellent book, one of my two favorites.  
I think many Hannibal fans would be able to appreciate it. 


	11. Manipulation Of Love

(A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful, talented, outstanding, skilled (i could go on) author Chameleon who has flattered me to no end by dedicating her story to me. Her pen name is Chameleon302 and if you haven't read her story i suggest you do it right away! She gave me the advice and the inspiration to keep pushing ahead with this story, my baby. Also, much thanks to Nanci, my kindest and most faithful reviewer.)  
  
Chapter Eleven: Manipulation of Love  
  
~"Every mind was made for growth, for knowledge, and its nature is sinned against when it is doomed to ignorance." William Ellery Channing~   
  
  
"You don't know me" She said in a quiet, determined voice, entering the cabin.  
  
His gaze seemed to hum as he fixed his eyes on her.   
  
"Oh Alissa, you are not brave, you are reckless." he scolded.  
  
"I don't care" She said quietly.   
  
"Don't you? Don't you long to be the woman you were once?" He asked.  
  
"That isn't possible"  
  
"It is," he said. "Clarise is dead, not you"  
  
  
"Why must you fuck with my world?" She screamed, finally snapping.  
  
"I am showing you what truly exists in hopes to re-introduce you to life. I am hardly 'fucking with your world' He said, bemused.  
  
"I was happy with my ignorance!" She cried.   
  
"No, Alissa, you're certainly not happy. You are a faded image of what you once were. The Sistine Chappell was grand in the years of it's youth. People marveled at it's depth and beauty. People now marvel at the shell left over. Recently, a team of architects from New York, lead by Mr.. Noelemahc, set about restoring it. Would you like to be restored, Alissa?"  
  
"I am not a building you can re-build or tear down as you please! I am a person, and i do not belong to you." She said slowly, pronouncing each word with rising volume.  
  
"Others have already succeeded in tearing you down. What i am offering is a chance to see the world as i see it. I can immerse you in beauty and colors and senses. Who is to say if it is dream or true reality? You belong to me more then you know. In that letter, Clarise left you in my care, like a possession. I inherited you, that was her intention."  
  
"No... that wasn't it..."  
  
"You know very well that *is* the part you play in this. You can resign yourself to your set role or not - it matters little to me, but i think we both know what Clarise would want.." His eyes gleamed an unholy crimson as he spoke.   
  
"Leave me in peace" She pleaded.   
  
" What you ask is to be left in your allusions." He corrected. "I never loose my belongings to careless handling."  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
  
  
It was almost midnight when she crept into the small kitchen. Her throat was clogged and her mouth sour from the taste of tears. Car fully, she poured a glass of water. She held it to her lips and tilted her head back.   
  
  
And heard breathing.   
  
  
One word registered in her mind: Intruder.  
  
She spun around and dealt a mighty kick to his chest. He slammed backwards into the refrigerator. She found it odd the person wasn't catching their breath from the attack. He flicked the switch and a harsh light flooded the kitchen. (A/N Maybe most cabins don't have electricity, but my cabin is special, so i say it does!) Standing before her was a cannibal in pajama pants.   
  
"You?- oh God, i could have killed you!" She panted from shock.   
  
She did not see the corner of his mouth curl at the statement.   
  
Realizing the absurdity of what she had said a nervous lamovementaped her throat.   
  
  
'Well i could have!" She defended with a smile.   
  
"It is very late to be roaming around the house" He stated.   
  
"I wanted water. And you?"   
  
"I had an urge for - a midnight snack-" He said, eyes shining in the too-bright lights. His small, white teeth shone from his smiling mouth, a generous mouth, she noticed.   
  
"Well- ah- help yourself" She said meekly, stepping out of his way.   
  
  
He followed her movment though. He was close, she could feel a rush of heat radiating from him, poised for the kill. She saw the deadly gleam in his eyes. He leaned tward her, reached out-  
  
  
and plucked the frying pan hanging behind her.   
  
  
"Care to join me?" He asked, mockery apperent in his tone.   
  
"Sure"   
  
He frowned at her. "Don't say 'sure'"   
  
"It would be my pleasure" She ammended.   
  
  
~"What the lion cannot manage to do the fox can." German Proverb~ 


End file.
